


Crossing Borders

by backtothestart02



Series: Backburner WIPs [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtothestart02/pseuds/backtothestart02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3x24 - an emotional mess, Lydia asks Stiles to stay with her the night after the final battle. Following she develops a strange attachment to him that she attributes to nearly losing him, her close friend, in addition to so many others. Denial creeps up on her at the startling revelation that this just might be love. Stiles/Lydia. Multi-Chap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter begins with everyone leaving to go home after the final battle. Lydia is being dropped off first.

She was the first one out of the jeep.

“You going to be okay, Lydia?” It was Scott who asked.

“Yeah, I can stay with you if you want,” Kira offered. Lydia didn’t stop to analyze how the new girl was pushing boundaries most newbies wouldn’t. Regardless of the fact that they’d nearly all lost their lives together multiple times in the last twenty-four hours.

She could feel Stiles watching her; she just barely evaded his gaze.

“I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile and raised her eyes to Scott’s and Kira’s concerned faces. “Really. All I need is a good night’s sleep.”

“You’ll need a lot more than that, Lydia.” Stiles spoke this time. A sense of wonder soared over her, not for the first time. _She’d almost lost him_. “We all will.” He gestured lightly to the two in the back seat. “You lost your best friend, your kind of boyfriend and you almost died in the clutches of a demonic spirit that looked like me.”

 _And you_ , she wanted to say. _I almost lost you_.

Everyone was silent for a long moment, letting the knowledge of all of that sink in. None of it was new information, but it was the first time it had been said out loud, that it had been acknowledge everybody.

Lydia fought the tears welling up in her eyes.

“I have to start somewhere. A good night’s sleep is better than nothing.”

She opened the door this time and made an effort to get out. When she finally made it securely to the ground she looked back at the solemn faces in the jeep. Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. His eyes told her all that she needed to know though. He wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep tonight either, even if it probably would be a better sleep than he’d had in months.

She hesitated, but the words slipped out of their own accord, and she swore she was closer to tears than when she thought for any more than a second on the death of Allison.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Stiles.” Her voice cracked. She wanted to say more but was both physically unable to do so without breaking down and sobbing endless tears, and also, they had a little bit of an audience. Anything else she would want to say to him would have to be done when they were alone. Tomorrow would be different. They would be gradually trying to recover and this moment would probably be gone.

So she turned away before he could say anything. It was too hard to deal with the intense and complex emotions thrumming through her right now. She shut the door to the jeep with some effort and turned to walk up her driveway.

…………

 

He watched her walk away and felt this incredible sadness fill him. So much had happened. So much loss and devastation, and he knew he’d carry the guilt of it for a long time, even if it hadn’t been his fault. He should’ve resisted somehow. He should have been stronger.

But the sadness he felt now had nothing to do with that. Watching Lydia walk away, so clearly not okay, twisted his insides in a way only she seemed capable of doing. When she was broken and he saw it, everything inside him longed to fix her. He yearned to make her happy, to stop her tears, which he was sure would break out the moment she closed her front door behind her. Maybe she would make it to her bedroom before they would burst.

Without taking his eyes off of her retreating form, he opened the jeep door and started to get out.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

He didn’t wait for a response, just left. He knew Scott and Kira would be okay. They had each other, and he wouldn’t be gone for long. Maybe.

“Hey, Lydia! Lydia!” he called after her. The short distance between them seemed to take an eternity to cross, even if she was making no attempt to get away.

She stopped and turned to him, almost to her door.

“What is it, Stiles?”

He couldn’t speak for a second. Her eyes were already red with the tears that were streaming down her face.

He took her in his arms and held her. As if all her crying from seeing Aiden’s dead body on the ground had never happened, she sobbed in his arms. She told herself she’d hate that she succumbed so quickly to the comfort in his arms when he had been the one in harm’s way all night, but she needed the strength she found there. She had come to rely on him in away she’d never dreamed on relying on anyone. And she’d almost lost him. And that terrified her.

“It was awful,” she sniffled against him.

“I know,” he whispered, stroking her hair and pressing a light kiss to the top of her head. “He did the right thing in the end though. You have to believe that.”

She blinked and pulled away slightly.

“I’m not talking about Aiden.” Her voice cracked slightly again. She hoped she didn’t look angry, even though she was definitely frustrated. How could he not know that she was absolutely falling apart over him? The only moment during the entire night where she hadn’t left his side was when she had sensed Aiden’s death. And hardly a breath later Stiles had then been by her side, consoling her in the event of it.

He looked confused though, maybe afraid to come to the conclusion she was implying.

“Stiles, I almost lost you.” Her breathing became short breaths. “I don’t know what I’d do if—I almost—I can’t imagine…you were so—”

He cut her off be wrapping his arms back around her. Awed by her confession, he held her tightly and rocked a little to soothe her.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m safe. You’re safe. We’re okay.”

She tried to let the words sink in, but all she could think about was the moment she vocally made known that she accepted his words, that they were true, he would leave and she would be alone in her room. And she would have nightmares about losing him all over again.

Minutes passed and he never let go. She wondered when he would. Surely he would not just stand there and wait for her to pull away, because she certainly wasn’t planning to. She was too emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted to even think about what boundaries could and shouldn’t be crossed at this point.

Finally she emerged from the feeling of wholeness and accepted that she wouldn’t be able to stand outside all night. Her first thought was that she should reassure him that she would be fine, that they would talk tomorrow, that he should see if his father was okay and that he should go home to him. All very good reasons for him to leave and for her to be super selfless in the wake of his desire.

But her selfish urges betrayed her again.

“Stiles…”

He looked down into her deep eyes, seeking only to comfort. He tucked a stray strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear and moved his thumb gently along the side of her face just beneath her ear on her jaw. He said nothing, but she knew he was only waiting for her. Waiting for her to the ask the question, whatever it might be. Because he knew she wasn’t all the way better. He just didn’t know which side of the line she would be on tonight.

“I don’t want you to go,” she breathed. The confession as blatant and bizarre as she knew it would be hung there in the air, waiting to be either rejected or embraced.

Stiles stared at her, unsure he had heard the words. All the very logical reasons he should leave – take Scott and Kira home, check up on his dad, other things he was sure – listed through his mine, advising them to be listened to. But for the moment, he ignored them. Because the love of his life was broken over almost having lost him and the only thing she was asking for…was _him_.

“Okay,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Okay, just, wait here. I have to tell Scott.”

Torn between letting him stay with her and telling him he should go home, or at least check on his dad, she could only stand there and watch his interactions with his best friend. From what she could tell, Scott was going to drive himself and Kira home and deliver the jeep back tomorrow. At least she guessed that was what was being arranged. At one point Stiles turned away, phone in hand, apparently talking to someone for what most have only been a span of less than five minutes.

Then he hugged Scott and Kira and waved them off, and returned to her.

“You’re really doing this?” Lydia finally managed. “You’re staying?”

The jeep drove off into the night.

He nodded. “Scott will get the jeep back to me sometime tomorrow, likely to pick me up for school. And I called the hospital. It’s chaos but my dad is okay. He actually never left the sheriff’s office, so that’s good. When I got a hold of him, he said wants me to go home and sleep. That he’ll see me tomorrow. I told him I was planning on sleeping elsewhere, and he’s come to the conclusion as long as it’s not in the middle of the woods and inside a house he’ll just see me in the morning.”

“That seems very…generous,” she said, doubtful that it was this easy. “Your dad was probably hurt tonight. I would think that you—”

“Lydia.” He set his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently to get her attention. She fixed her gaze on his. “Are you okay?”

“I…I can manage.”

“Lydia.”

She opened her mouth and closed it. Nothing came out and she didn’t force it.

He nodded once. “Then I’m staying.”

She swallowed but nodded and turned back around, relief pouring over her when she felt his hand around her shoulder and the heat of his body warming her other side. He was no longer frigid and no longer limping. He was okay, and soon she would be too.

“There should be enough room for both of us on my bed,” she said quickly on entering her room. “If you don’t mind of course.”

 “I can sleep on the floor,” he offered, even as he eyed the massive bed. She looked at him in disbelief. “Or a chair or something.”

She almost laughed. “Stiles, the only way I’m going to get any sleep tonight at all is if you’re right next to me.” She swallowed, wondering if she’d said too much, since shock was set on his surprised face.

“Oh.”

She shook her head. “There’s plenty of room anyway.” His silence continued and she wondered if he was simply processing the enormity of this or if she’d overstepped her bounds. “Look, if this is going to be awkward for you…”

“No. No-no-no-no, not awkward at all.” He shook his head and then half-nodded, and she relaxed. He was getting back to his old casual, stuttering self whenever she pinned him with a personal question regarding her.

“Ok, well, I’m going to change. If you’ve changed your mind before I get back, you don’t have to sleep on the bed.”

He paused, wondering if she was suggesting a worse alternative for him. By the time he decided he couldn’t figure it out, she was in the bathroom, presumably changing. He slipped out of his shoes and unbuttoned shirt. Not daring to take anything else off he started for the bed. Further wondering if it was safe to go under the covers, he just stood and stared at the looming bed for awhile. He swallowed, trying to imagine himself inside it with Lydia. His heart squeezed just at the image of it in his mind.

“Stiles?”

He turned and saw her, wearing an extra large t-shirt and some cotton pajama pants. He was baffled by it briefly since the last time he’d seen her night time attire it had been in the form of a silky, sexy little nightie. Then it occurred to him how inappropriate that might be under the circumstances. She was still so desirable though. He should probably be grateful she wasn’t wearing something bearing more skin.

“Ye—” his voice squeaked. “Yes?”

She walked towards him and then looked at the bed.

“Is it okay if we sleep under the covers?”

The words dazed him. Despite everything, this moment was very surreal.

He couldn’t help himself, so he asked the pending question, “Lydia, is this really what you want?”

The disbelief in his voice solidified the questioning thoughts that had nearly consumed her in the bathroom. She moved just past him and turned back the covers. Then she grabbed his hand and led him to the bed. She crawled onto the bed and buried herself beneath the covers on the far side. Then she held out her hand to him again, briefly tightening in fear when he didn’t move.

“Please,” she whispered.

He gulped and took her hand, climbing into the bed and wrapping the covers over his body. Lydia switched off her lamp and the whole room went dark. She could hear his labored breathing and wondered if she’d gone too far. She yearned to be close to him but perhaps this was one of those lines she wasn’t supposed to cross. She laid her head on her pillow and tried to relax.

“Do you really want to be here, Stiles?” she asked into the darkness.

It was a moment too long, as far as she was concerned, but finally he answered.

“I really want to be here, Lydia.”

She was still tense, but she let herself cross that boundary. She invaded his space and snuggled up against him, tucking herself into his side. She waited for some sort of rejection or clear comment of awkwardness, but instead his arm wrapped around hers and pulled her somehow closer. He kissed the top of her head again.

“Goodnight, Lydia,” he murmured.

She sighed in relief with a soaring sense of contentment washing over her. It was going to be okay.

“Goodnight, Stiles.”


	2. The Morning After

The heat of the sun warmed her face in the early morning light. It surprised her to discover it was morning. That meant she had slept all the way through the night. Impossible, she would have thought, considering the events of the night before. She hadn’t told anyone, but Stiles’ lack of sleep in the previous weeks had become _her_ sleeping routine in the last few days too. Understandable, she had told herself, but still unnerving.

Stiles, she realized, had been on her mind a lot lately. So much in fact that—

_Stiles._

Contentedly living in her own thoughts with her eyes closed, determined to stay that way until her alarm went off, she hadn’t opened her eyes to see the male human being lying in bed next to her. One she hadn’t had sex with, but slept with in the literal sense. Who was only a friend, and only a handful of months ago hadn’t even been that.

Cautiously, her eyes fluttered open. She saw him sleeping before her in some weird twisted position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but clearly was. Oddly enough he was not snoring. For some reason she had expected that.

Well, what had she expected? That he would be on the floor? That he would be gazing into her eyes like a creeper, even if his intention would be anything but? That all of this would just be a dream? That he would never have stayed the night? That he would have just— _god, why did she let him stay the night?_ She chastised herself. That was so out of character for her. Regardless of their relationship being upgraded to what she could honestly call a close friendship, there were always personal boundaries. At least, for the most part. There was a bubble. A privacy bubble. There was always a privacy bubble.

But not when he’d saved her life in the woods. Not when he’d covered his hand over hers and reassured her of just how significant and worthwhile her abilities were. Not when she’d calmed the storm of his panic attack and kissed him.

_God, she really should not have let him stay the night._

There were probably several options she could proceed with right now. He had told her a few times that she was smart, so she should be able to figure this out. She could close her eyes and try to fall back asleep for the maybe remaining thirty minutes she could do so. She could gently wake him up and simply lose herself in the fact that he was alive and he was with her, that she could touch him – in a _friendly_ way – and know that he was real. She could push him out of the bed, pretend to forget his staying was her idea and yell at him till he got out of her bedroom and her house. After all, her mom was home. She would have to sneak him out at the very least. Or, she could do the most sensible thing that would draw the least suspicion. She could simply start getting ready for school. It wouldn’t be easy pretending everything was 100% okay again, especially when she knew it wasn’t and wouldn’t be for awhile, just as Stiles had said last night. But she could try.

……………

 

The sound of an alarm going off provoked an annoyed groan to come out of Stiles mouth, slurring his “no, not yet, still sleeping”. When the alarm ceased to shut itself off, he blindly reached for it and then realized he was not reaching a side table of any kind but another half of a bed. He blinked his eyes awake just in time to see Lydia Martin come over to the table, switch off the alarm and return to her mirror on the wall, where she had been applying her make-up.

He just laid there for awhile and watched her, in disbelief that he was actually in Lydia’s bedroom, in her _bed_ , and that she was just casually getting ready for school right in front of him. Briefly he wondered if she’d changed right there in the room and he’d missed it. He mentally called himself all sorts of nasty names, assuming that had been a great opportunity wasted.

“Good morning, Stiles,” she said cheerfully, popping her lips as she finished applying her lip gloss.

His eyes roved all across the room, still trying to process. He levered himself up on his elbows, and in the most subtle way he could manage, lifted the covers to see what lie beneath. Still clothed. He inwardly sighed. It had been too much to hope for anyway.

His subtlety however had not escaped Lydia’s notice. She caught his actions in the mirror and smiled to herself.

“We didn’t have sex, Stiles.” She rolled her eyes as her smile spread and she turned to him. His deer-caught-in-the-headlights look followed by a quickly spreading blush instantly made her feel lighter and brighter. “You’re not _that_ lucky.”

He swallowed and looked away quickly as she crossed the room to grab her purse and few odds and ends from her dresser.

“By the way,” she said, heading for the door. “You’re going to have to…” she looked around the room as she realized there was no way for him to really get any more ready than he already way. “Well, put your shoes on, I guess, quickly. My mom is not likely to come looking for boys in my room but I don’t want to put you on parade either.

“Uh…s-sure. Of course.” He fumbled with the blankets covering him and just barely saved himself from falling off the bed entirely. He cleared his throat. “B-bathroom?” he stuttered. Her amused expression nearly made him blush again. She pointed to the obvious destination he was in search for.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she said assuredly, flouncing out of the room as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Right. I’ll meet you down…” The door swung back, almost closing in on him entirely. “…and you’re gone.” He pursed his lips and made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly and locking it until he’d finished and was ready to face the world again.

Starting with attempting to shake himself out of the reverie of last night and this morning and how he was going to move forward with life and with Lydia Martin.


	3. Invading the Bubble

The metal keys came flying at his mid section. Instinctively, Stiles caught them and looked  to see whose hands they had been thrown from.

“Scott,” he said, more elated than he’d ever been to see his best friend. A warmth spread through him when he realized that this was going to be a normal day – by the standards of any other teenager who had not been subjected to the supernatural for the last year or their life.

Today, and for who knows how long, no one was trying to kill his father or his friends. No demonic spirit was trying to possess him and wreak havoc on the whole town.

Today was going to be a good day.

“Hey man.”

Scott reached him and they hugged, continuing then down the hall.

“How was your night with Lydia?”

Then again maybe the first fall day without a spirit inside him wouldn’t be the best day of his life.

“That the first thing you have to say to me? Really?”

“I said ‘hey man’,” Scott defended.

Stiles nodded, muttering under his breath, “Yes, you did.”

“And, _and_ ,” Scott draped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, “I hugged you.”

Stiles turned his head to look at Scott’s face. The cheeky grin he found there made it impossible not to laugh.

“Yes, you did,” Stiles repeated, smiling still when the brief bout of laughter had subsided.

“So?” Scott urged.

Stiles sighed.

“That bad, huh?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. His feelings were so muddled on the subject, he didn’t know how to put any of them into words.

“Ok…” Scott continued, determined to get some sort of answer.

Despite the circumstances of the situation, his best friend _had_ just spent the night with the girl of his dreams. Scott knew that Stiles’ feelings for her had only deepened since they’d become real friends, not faded. Scott had a strong suspicion in fact that the crush which had maintained in tact since the third grade had blossomed further, into love.

“How are you doing?” he asked, opting for a different tactic. “And Lydia,” he added. “After what happened last night.”

“Well, sleeping together wasn’t some sort of miracle tonic to erase the last couple months, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Scott nearly tripped over his own feet.

Stiles looked over and smacked his best friend’s chest when he realized the reason behind the sudden shocked expression across his face.

“Not _that_ kind of sleeping.” He shook his head and mumbled, “Idiot,” under his breath.

“You can’t blame me for considering the possibility,” Scott defended weakly.

“Yes, I can. Lydia wouldn’t sleep with a guy in the sense you’re implying just because she was emotionally vulnerable and he happened to be there to comfort her. You know that as well as I do. And even if she was open to that, I would not be the one she’d consider doing it with.” He paused, a troubled expression forming on his face. “And she was a mess.”

“So, she’s not doing any better?” Scott asked, for the first time solely concerned on how Lydia was coping after they’d all seen how frazzled she’d been the night before. He remembered now how she’d clutched at Stiles as if she was afraid he’d dissolve just as his evil doppelganger had done the moment she let go.

It had been a searing image, one that Scott would not soon forget. It was ingrained into his mind.

Stiles halted when they turned the corner. He pursed his lips resolutely, a small sigh slipping through without permission.

“See for yourself.”

Scott’s eyebrows furrowed and then he turned his head to see where Stiles was looking.

And there was Lydia. She was at her locker talking animatedly with Kira, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Stiles took a deep breath and trudged forward, Scott close at his heels.

…………

 

Of all the reactions Kira had anticipated when she decided to approach Lydia in the hallway, the redhead bubbling over with how glad she was to see her was the very last thing. And while shortly after that burst of enthusiasm, she had started to talk about Allison, not a single story sounded particularly meaningful or heartbreaking. It was as if she was introducing her to her last best friend through a series of fun details.

“..and then-and _then_!” Lydia burst into laughter, suddenly putting her hand on Kira’s shoulder. Kira watched it uneasily, slightly alarmed when the nails dug in a little. “Then we…” Lydia stopped and relaxed slightly, then tensed, grabbed Kira’s chin in her hand and forced her to turn and look at her. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, dear.”

“S-sorry,” Kira mumbled with wide eyes.

“It’s rude not to look someone in the eye when they’re talking to you.”

Kira swallowed.

“Hey guys!” Scott announced, sidling up next to Kira who was instantly relieved by his presence.

Lydia released her grip on Kira and took in the two new arrivals. She only half glanced at Stiles, despite the fact that he was the one standing closer to her. She straightened.

“Boys. I see you decided to show up at school today.”

She glanced meaningfully at Stiles for half a beat and then focused back at Scott, ignoring how the two boys shared a suspicious look before turning their gaze back on her.

“Class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes,” Scott said neutrally, the confusion evident in his voice.

“And some of us don’t speed on the way to school,” Stiles said meaningfully, his stare burning into the side of her face, despite her blatantly ignoring it. He knew she was well aware though of the fact that she’d taken off in her car that morning without waiting for him and he’d had to walk to school.

Lydia forced a smile and finally looked at him.

“Some of us don’t move at the speed of _snail_ when getting ready for the day. Honestly Stiles, you were in the bathroom longer than I was.”

His mouth dropped open, mostly because he had no answer for her. He’d tried to put himself together in a hurry earlier that morning, but she’d been up before he was, so he had no knowing how long she’d been in the bathroom. He still suspected she’d been in there longer though. Girls always took longer to get ready.

Scott and Kira shifted uncomfortably beside them.

“Well, would you look at the time,” Lydia said, glancing down at her watchless wrist. When she looked up her forced smile had widened but was still tight at the corners. “I don’t want to be late for class on the first day class is normal.”

Her teeth shone and her eyes sparkled as she breezed past them all in the direction most of the students were heading. She turned the corner, but a moment later she came back and headed in the other direction where her actual first class was located.

Kira shut Lydia’s locker that the redhead had left wide open.

“Weird,” Scott said, still staring in the direction Lydia had gone.

“Yeah…” Kira shook her head, still trying to process it all.

Stiles said nothing and headed after her, thankful that for once in his life he had a class with Lydia Martin and it was right when he needed it to be.

…………………

 

Not even the teacher was in the open classroom when Stiles arrived at the doorway. He walked in hesitantly, instantly spotting Lydia sitting at her desk applying lip gloss in front of her circular handheld mirror.

“Lydia…” he said, slowly approaching her.

“Stiles,” she responded, still focusing on the task at hand.

He stopped and watched her for awhile, trying to come to grips at what to say.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay, Stiles. Do I not look okay?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but realized he couldn’t come up with a full sentence.

“That what I thought,” she said, popping her lips and then grinning into the mirror before slipping the contents back into her purse. Then she proceeded to pull out her textbooks, notebooks, binder and pens and display them neatly on the desk not designed to hold so many items.

Stiles cleared his throat.

“Lydia, I think maybe you should—”

“Good morning, Miss Martin,” a voice said behind them. The teacher.

Lydia looked up, but not at Stiles. She contorted her body so it took effort to see the teacher but not so much that she actually had to stand up.

“Good morning, Mister Webb. I hope you don’t mind that I slipped inside. The door was unlocked.”

“Was it?” Mister Webb halted and frowned. “That’s odd.”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed and a suspicious glare focused on Lydia, who still refused to look at him.

“Yes, it _is_ odd.”

“No harm, no foul though,” Mister Webb suddenly chuckled. “Any student ready to learn before the bell rings is a favorite student of mine.” He continued on to the back of the room until he reached his desk.

Lydia smiled brightly and then turned back into a comfortable position, suddenly confronted with Stiles close enough to touch.

“Was there something you wanted, Stiles?”

His mouth opened and said nothing again. Lydia rolled her eyes and opened her planner. She grabbed a pen and started to write something inside and Stiles knew coming in without a plan had been a mistake, especially now that someone else was present.

One by one the class started to fill up and it occurred to him then that he had none of the supplies with him that Lydia had so neatly stacked on her desktop. He turned to the man sitting at his desk in the back of the room.

“Mister Webb?”

The man looked up.

“I don’t have any of my school supplies with me.” He leaned against the desk next to Lydia’s, firmly placing a hold on it.

The teacher took his glasses off and frowned.

“You don’t have _any_ of them?” he asked, concerned.

Stiles shook his head innocently.

“I was out of town last night and forgot to stop home for everything.”

Lydia tensed at the _out of town_ remark, but managed to keep from glaring up at Stiles.

Mister Webb seemed to contemplate that.

“You keep nothing in your locker?”

“Not even my jacket,” he declared, regretting it the instant he did because the teacher looked even more suspicious, given he was still wearing his jacket. “Which, I…obviously had _with_ me last night.” He chuckled nervously. “Since it was cold.”

“I see…”

Stiles just stood there, refusing to give more information.

Mister Webb looked around the room and then finally his eyes stopped right where Stiles had hoped they would.

“Well, Mister Stilinski, it looks like Miss Martin has brought in more than enough supplies for the two of you.”

“Oh, I don’t think—” Lydia protested, but was immediately cut off.

“Why don’t you scoot your desk next to hers, so you can share the textbook?”

Stiles smiled valiantly.

“Thank-you, Mister Webb.” He looked down at Lydia who was fuming, though you couldn’t tell from where the teacher was. “I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to participate in class today.”

The teacher nodded and sighed, returning to his plans before the entire class arrived and was seated.

“Please remember your things next time, Mister Stilinski.”

Stiles scooted the desk over, nearly everyone in the room cringing when it made a painfully loud screech against the floor.

“I will make sure to,” he said and plopped into his desk’s chair next to Lydia.

“This changes nothing,” Lydia said under her breath.

Stiles smiled and lay his hand out in front of her.

She stared at it for a moment, confused, and then turned her head to look at him.

“ _What_?” she demanded.

“Pen. Please.”

Roughly she handed one over. He deliberately brushed his fingers across hers as he took it. Her delayed reaction in pulling her hand away encouraged him. A beat later he spread his elbow into her space, purposefully leaning into her.

“ _Stiles_ -” she warned.

“I’ll need a piece of paper too,” he explained and she hastily handed one over.

 The process put some dents into the pristine sheet and he handed it back to her. Her eyes blazed up at him furiously.

“Stiles, I swear-”

“One not crinkled.” He paused, taking too much delight in how tense and furious she was. “Please.”

She very slowly, very carefully, without taking her eyes off him, retrieved another piece of paper and handed it gently over to him. He took it and smiled.

“Satisfied?” she asked, annoyed.

He only smiled and she scoffed, trying her best to ignore his presence as he returned to a normal position in his chair. The final bell rang and the teacher appeared at the front of the class. Lydia softly exhaled as Mister Webb quieted down his students and began the lesson.

She let herself believe she was safe for at least the next forty minutes, but she knew there was a possibility she wasn’t. Not from some supernatural entity or event, but from the boy sitting beside her, invading her space. He was the only one left in her life who could break down her defenses.


	4. Unspoken Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to one of my TW parents, Isa, on twitter, for helping me out with a couple last minute things.
> 
> Thanks, hun, you're the best!

She burst out of the classroom forty minutes later, too long as far as she was concerned, and began to power walk to her next class. Much to her chagrin, Stiles’ long legs kept him from being as far behind her as she would have liked.

“I don’t know what you hoped to achieve with all that immature nonsense, but whatever it was, you _failed_.”

“Did I?”

She could practically feel the smirk on his ridiculous face, and it only annoyed her father.

“Yes, you did,” she said through gritted teeth.

“And what –” He was suddenly in front of her, blocking her path. When she tried to move around him he was a second too fast for her each time and finally she gave up on a sigh and glared at him. “— did I hope to achieve just by sitting next to you in class today?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You did _more_ than sit next to me.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, refusing to back down.

“I don’t know!” she shrieked, causing a few stares she only briefly took notice of. She lowered her voice all the same. “How could I possibly know what goes on in your head or why you do what you do?” she whispered heatedly.

It took him a moment to bounce back from that, and she took advantage of that precious second to move around him and keep going.

Unfortunately for her, Stiles resurfaced before she could get too far. He just barely managed to grab at her hand, forcing her to turn to face him in a sudden spin. She glared at him angrily, not saying anything. Her body practically vibrated with annoyance. Stiles was certain her face resembled that of a fire-breathing dragon being provoked. The intimidation she’d unknowingly held over him for years came back to haunt him.

She ripped her hand away from his when he proved unable to force a single word out.

“I’m going to be late,” she muttered under her breath. Then, with a toss of her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, she turned successfully around and went down the hall to her second class.

Stiles was late for his next class. One that didn’t have Lydia in it and gained him a curious stare from both Scott and Kira. He rolled his eyes and shrugged it off, but his inability to get through to Lydia as much as he’d wanted to ate at him. He was sullen for the rest of that period.

……

 

Lydia left campus for her lunch hour – half hour, _whatever_. She didn’t know how to get back to normal and it was draining not only pretending she was fine, but keeping from lunging at Stiles whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He might get the wrong idea, after all.

_Yeah, Lydia. Like you’re still reeling from the events of last night. Like you lost your best friend. And your boyfriend. And the guy who you never expected to mean anything to you, but had mysteriously become incredibly important. You almost lost him._

She knew it was irrational, pretending that nothing bad had happened, just because to only her small group of friends something had. Surely they were all going through a lot. But people deal with everything differently. No one person is the same.

The last thing she wanted to do was have a meltdown in the middle of the school hallway, or in the courtyard, or in class. Someone might even discover her crying in the bathroom. That couldn’t be allowed.

She got out of her car, parked on the edge of town, in the one place where there wasn’t forest on either side of the road. A wild, lush meadow stretched out before her. She wanted to run into it, lay down, inhale the sweet fragrance of untouched beautiful nature. But simultaneously she didn’t want to move from where she stood, didn’t want to taint anything, didn’t want to act unladylike, in case anyone was watching, even though she knew no one was.

“You’re allowed to _feel_ , Lydia!”

She’d meant to mutter under her breath, but it came out on a choked sob and then she couldn’t stop. Her voice had echoed across the meadow. She couldn’t take that back. She couldn’t bring Allison back. She couldn’t bring Aiden back, and she hated even more that she wasn’t grieving him as much as she thought she should’ve been. They’d broken up. He’d gone back and forth between being on the “right” side too much for her to ignore, most obviously when he’d been part of the plan to _kill Boyd_.

Still, she’d had real feelings for Aiden. She’d liked him. He was just a distraction from Jackson at first, and she knew well enough herself that she wasn’t really that serious about him. But he still meant something to her, even more so when the cost of his life proved he was willing to change to be someone she might consider being with again. Losing him right after losing Allison shook her up. How can you not be totally devastated when someone dies that you haven’t made amends with when the very thing that cost them their life was what could have salvaged your relationship?

_I mean…_

But Stiles had been there.

She’d been shocked, horrified, not even on the brink of giving in to sadness, and she’d been about to run away – to where? To who? She hadn’t had a clue. But Stiles had been there. He’d held her. He’d been through hell and back again, he’d almost died, but he’d held her. _Comforted_ her. Just like he’d done all night long simply by sleeping beside her.

She sighed, her sobs slowly subsiding, and suddenly wished she wasn’t alone.

She got back into her car and drove back to school.

…

 

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Stiles tried to catch Lydia’s gaze a few more times – in the halls, in class – but he was always unsuccessful. On what should’ve been the bright side, she was no longer trying to be chipper or over the top happy and excited the way she had been earlier. He wondered why that didn’t make him feel better.

By the end of the day, he’d decided there was no way he was going to just let her go home with last night un-discussed, with every day before last night not talked about. He wasn’t going to make her tell him everything, but this version of Lydia he hadn’t seen for awhile. Earlier in the day was the pre-friends Lydia, and he didn’t know what to do with the Lydia he was seeing now.

Whether she liked it or not, he was going to confront her one more time. This time though he was going to be taking notes, so she wouldn’t be able to walk away as easily again. After all, it wasn’t as if she would have anywhere she _had_ to be immediately with it being the end of the day, so that excuse would definitely be out.

He told himself that improved his chances, but he honestly wasn’t sure.

He gathered his things at his locker, smiling as innocently as ever when Mr. Webb passed him by and witnessed him taking his books out of his locker. No way would he be giving that a solid explanation. He figured Mr. Webb wouldn’t care for it much anyways, let alone understand it.

He was reciting all the lines he had carefully memorized to say to Lydia – how he knew her so well, how they were friends now, how they were connected in a way they hadn’t been before, how he knew what she was going through with Allison because he saw it in the quiet moments with Scott when Kira wasn’t around to lighten his best friend’s mood. He couldn’t empathize about Aiden though; except for the fact that if he had lost Lydia, there would be no way he’d still be functioning. Probably die of heartbreak. _Probably_ … He couldn’t even begin to grasp what he’d be going through if it had been Lydia.

But before he had a chance to get out of his own head and approach her, she was rounding the corner and colliding right into him.

“Oh, I’m so—” He caught his breath. “Lydia?” The words was slurred, so he was careful to swallow and then clear his throat. “Where…where were you during lunch? I…we…you weren’t here.”

She forced a tiny smile and nodded.

“You were looking for me?” she asked tentatively, her voice so small.

Stiles nodded slowly, nearly losing his voice again. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

“Now too, right?” She tried to smile a little more, but it got lost within seconds.

“Mhmm.”

She looked down and swallowed, and when she looked back up at him, he could tell her eyes were tainted a light pink and wondered if she’d been crying, and if it had been recent.

“Look.” She took a deep breath. “You were right. I’m not okay. And it’s okay to not be okay. But…if I don’t act like I’m okay in front of people…I won’t be. I will be so very _not_ okay that people will think I’ve lost it.” Nervous laughter started to spill out.

He hugged her before the threatening tears spilled over onto her cheeks. He heard and felt her sharp intake of breath and then her arms came around his waist and she clutched at him, her breathing still shallow. He didn’t let go for a long time.

“You were right,” she said softly when he finally began to pull away. “I do know you.” She looked up into his eyes, gaze as intense as ever. Stiles couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to, and he never wanted to look away from Lydia when she wanted his attention.

“These last few months…when you were…possessed. I felt _everything_ , Stiles. When you had your nightmares and we couldn’t find you, I went to where your nightmare was. I led all of us to the Eichen House, because that’s where your nightmare was, wasn’t it?”

He could barely breathe. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “Scott told me that you’d told him later, and when he said it, I…” She took a breath and then quickly looked up at him again. “And when you lost control of yourself and the Nogitsune took over – you were in _agony_. I didn’t want to go to the hospital because I was hearing all these noises all day long and I just needed to get away from it. I was so scared of everything that was going on. I didn’t want to admit how connected I probably was to it, to whatever was going on with _you_. So I just left. I stayed in my car, and I sat there, but it…it was too much and I _screamed_. And you were…” She paused as the pieces fell into place. “…that’s when it happened, wasn’t it? When he finally took over.”

He nodded, not saying a word. He remembered it all, exactly as she was saying it.

“I could _feel_ it, Stiles.” Tears welled up in her eyes as the pitch in her voice went up but the volume went down. “You were lost to everyone…” She took his hand in her hand and squeezed. “Everyone but me.”

He smiled softly and tucked a strawberry blonde lock behind her ear.

“Last night I slept better than I have in months. And I guess…” A short nervous laugh slipped out between her lips. “I guess I just didn’t want to admit how much I need you.”

The feeling of relief that washed over him was evident and it made a genuine smile start to spread across her face. He took her other hand in his, intertwining their fingers, squeezing gently in reassurance.

“Do you…want to get a burger?” he asked.

She laughed now.

“Yes. I would _love_ to get a burger.”

Her smile was so big, so genuine now, Stiles felt like he was walking on air.

“Alright. I’ll just go get—”

She could hear the words on his tongue before they came – Scott and Kira – and she panicked.

“No,” she said before she could stop herself.

He looked at her questioning.

“I mean, I…could it be…just us this time?”

Now he was glowing.

“Just us.”

She rolled her eyes at the starry-eyed look in his eyes, but dragged him out to her car nonetheless. His jeep reminded her of last night, but her car made her think of possibilities and healing.

And the potential of Stiles complaining he couldn’t drive or that it was too small or that it was girly, which made her smile.

Of course he didn’t do any of things. Just touched her hand before she pulled out of the lot.

That made her smile even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope Lydia's caving in didn't feel too rushed to you. I assure you there's another stage to her denial right around the corner. ;)


	5. Getting Clingy

“Has Lydia been acting weird to you?”

Scott’s brows furrowed and he turned to look at Kira.

“Weird?” His hand stilled on the books in his locker. “Weird, how?”

She shrugged and leaned against the closed locker beside his.

“I don’t know. She just seems kind of…clingy.”

Scott laughed. “Clingy? Lydia?”

Kira nodded.                                                                                                                             

“Not to you. Not like last week. I mean, you and I have mostly been—” He cut himself off and Kira looked away.

It was important, she reminded herself, to not point out just how much time they’d spent together lately. After all, in the months before her death, Kira had been sure she’d sparks between Allison and Scott. To his credit, Scott went out of his way to prove to Kira that there was nothing between them – or at least there wasn’t any _more_. Still, she couldn’t help feeling that he had walked away from Allison dying in his arms with the pain of something more than a friend or an ex-boyfriend.

Not that he was one to show it. At least not to her. Which made sense, all things considered. It also made her worry where they stood exactly and how very much she didn’t want to think about it every time she thought about it.

She shook her head, forcing herself away from the confusing thoughts that refused to leave her alone.

“I wasn’t talking about me,” she told him. To her relief, she saw he was equally determined not to pursue his little slip of the tongue. “I meant Stiles.”

“Stiles?”

She nodded. “Haven’t you noticed? I mean…”

She gestured down the hall to where Lydia stood at Stiles’ locker, chatting with him happily. Kira glanced back at Scott whose head was now tilted on its axis in an effort to understand the situation better.

“She’s not acting like before, is she? Like everything’s okay even though her best friend just died?” He swallowed. “Amongst other things.”

She shook her head, pushing forward.

“No. I mean, not from what I’ve heard from her. We’re not the closest and she’s been so stuck to Stiles’ side since last week – after that first day, that I haven’t really…”

“He has been sleeping over there a lot,” Scott said, as if in a haze. “I mean, I don’t know if it was every day last week, but he did say he couldn’t do anything Friday night because Lydia wanted him to stay over.”

Kira’s eyes widened and her brows rose.

“Are they _dating_ now?”

Scott’s brows furrowed again as he continued to watch Stiles and Lydia down the hall.

“No…I don’t think so. He would have told me that.” He paused, thinking it over more. “Yeah, he _definitely_ would have told me about that.”

“Because you’re best friends,” she concluded.

“No. Well, yeah.” He turned and looked at her. “But also…” he hesitated and then decided to just go for it. “Stiles has been in love with Lydia since the third grade.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Well…maybe love is a strong word,” he amended. “He’s had a huge crush on her since then, was kind of obsessive about it actually, but now…it’s different now I think. Especially after what happened to him the past couple months.” He swallowed again. Hard. Kira almost heard it. “What happened to all of us.”

She  turned to look at the duo finally moving away from Stiles’ locker and heading down the hall. To anyone else they looked just like two friends walking down the hall, but it seemed to her that Lydia was almost pressed up against Stiles’ side and that any obstacle which caused them to separate nearly put her into panic mode. At least it looked that way to her.

“Scott!”

Kira blinked and watched as the two guys exchanged greetings, swapped stories of their last classes of the day and the unexpected amount of time it had taken to clean out their lockers. It was the last day of school before summer break, she reminded herself, suddenly aware that she’d yet to touch her own locker since the last class let out an hour ago. Because she’d been stuck to Scott like glue at his locker. Her face reddened a little when she realized her assumptions on Lydia could very well be directed at herself to an outside party.

“You alright, Kira?” Lydia heard her ask.

She looked up, eyes flashing wide open.

“Huh? What? Yep. Never better.” Her blush deepened when she realized all of them were now looking at her with rapt attention. “I, uh…” Her mouth went dry. “I still have to clean out my locker.” She cleared her throat, starting to inch away. “So, I’m uh…going to go do that now. Yeah. See you later. Bye.”

“Bye,” Scott said, confusion clear in his voice; as it was in Stiles’ who repeated the same sentiment. Lydia’s, however, held a degree of suspicion and Kira wondered who the heck she was fooling.

…

 

“So, you think I should go talk to her? See if she’s alright?” Scott asked when they stepped out into the parking lot.

“See if who’s alright?” Lydia asked, popping up beside Stiles before he could answer.

“Uh…” Scott began, somewhat startled. “Kira.” He paused. “That was weird, right? How she just took off like that?”

“She could have really had to clean out her locker, Scott,” Stiles said, oblivious to his best friend’s sudden discomfort.

The fact was that no matter how much he’d grown to enjoy Lydia’s company, Scott very much needed her absent in order to continue the conversation with his best friend. Despite his initial confusion to Kira’s observations, less than half an hour later it was all he could think about, and he couldn’t very well ask Stiles if Lydia had been unusually close to him in the last week with her right beside him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Scott agreed far too readily. They only went a few more steps before he started up again. “So, school’s out, any plans?”

Before Stiles could say a word, Lydia piped up.

“We could have a party,” she suggested, trying to tamper down her pep and not totally succeeding.

“A party?” Both guys asked simultaneously as they turned their heads to look at her.

She nodded. “Mhmm. Everyone will probably start leaving on vacations in a few weeks, so now or a couple weeks before school starts up again are the best times to insure highly populated get togethers. What do you say? My house?”

“Sure,” Scott and Stiles said at the same time.

“Great.” Lydia beamed. “And for extra measure – just to make sure nothing is seriously wrong, I’ll take out your girl, Kira for some shopping. Then she’ll be happy and fashionable in time for food, fun and party favors.”

Stiles was a little shocked by the announcement. Lydia had started to bounce back from the week before, but it had still been a huge ordeal. A party was something she threw her whole heart and soul into. He didn’t know if she was ready to embark onto the social scene so quickly and with such fervor.

Scott was more shocked though, for all the reasons Stiles had and in addition, Kira’s observations that concluded Lydia had somehow become glued to Stiles’ side. Figuratively speaking.

That was obviously proved wrong now. Which he should be happy about, he told himself, even if he didn’t know why. _What about Lydia being clingy was necessarily a bad thing?_ Stiles would never toss her aside the way Jackson had.

At any rate, it appeared now as if she was going to leave both Stiles and himself standing in the parking lot to prepare for this party _she’d_ come up with. At the very least, she would take Kira out shopping and Scott doubted Stiles would get invited along.

“But first, I am starving,” she said, pulling Scott out of his thoughts. Then she turned to Stiles. “Where’d you want to go tonight? Someplace different.”

And there it was.

Wide-eyed Scot glanced between the two of them.

“Uhh…” Stiles drew out, aware of Scott’s reaction. “We don’t have to—”

“I want to come too.”

Lydia blinked and focused on Scott. “You do?”

“Yeah…” His brows furrowed. “It’s the end of school. Shouldn’t we celebrate?”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. Whatever suspicions she’d just had were gone.

“Of course. Yes. You can meet us there in half an hour, ‘kay? I’ll text you the address.”

And then she was dragging Stiles toward her car.

“W-wait, just—I need a ride!”

Lydia stopped and turned around, looking as innocent as could be. “What for?”

He lifted his box of school supplies he was holding and then gestured to the motorcycle he’d ridden to school. He saw her audibly sigh.

“Come on,” she called to him.

Scott followed, shooting a _we have to talk_ meaningful stare at Stiles as soon as he had the opportunity. Stiles swallowed and gave a vague nod before plastering a smile on his face before Lydia was aware of what had transpired.


	6. Shattered Reflection

“Well, Scott, it looks like you’ve finished up your meal there,” Lydia said pointedly.

Scott glanced down to find that while the burger he’d eaten was definitely MIA, the fries he’d barely touched had somehow ended up on Lydia’s place. He looked up at her, his mouth hanging open.

“As you can see,” she gestured to her plate and his stolen fries. “I am nowhere near finishing. So, why don’t you go along home, and Stiles can drop off your things later. I’m sure he’ll have no problem with that.” She tilted her head so Stiles was in her vision. “Will you, Stiles?”

“Uhh…” came out, but not coherent words followed.

Lydia’s switched her gaze back to Scott. “That sounds means yes,” she informed him.

“Does it?” Scott asked with just enough curiosity behind his tone to not qualify for threatening.

“Mhmm,” she said, a large plastered smile on her face. Then she took the water she’d requested and was nearly empty and sipped it until it make a loud sucking noise.

“Would you like another?” a nearby waitress asked, approaching the table.

Lydia stopped and looked up at the woman suddenly in their vicinity.

“No, thank you.” She smiled politely and the waitress moved on to the next table. By the time she looked back across the table Scott was near the end of the booth and Stiles was going with him.

Lydia straightened abruptly and screeched a “Stiles!” in a hissing whisper.

Both boys froze, their eyes pinned to the dragon sitting across from them.

Lydia cleared her throat and released him, refusing to look at the nail marks on Stiles’ hand that he was currently massaging.

“Surely Scott doesn’t need a chaperone,” she said, sounding more in control now. “And honey, a girl can’t eat by herself.” She gestured to her plate and slid it halfway across the table. “Here. Have some.” She smiled again, this time more subdued, less fake and forced.

Stiles laughed a little nervously, not meeting Scott’s bewildered expression.

“I…um, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said.

 _Good of an excuse as any_ , Scott thought to himself.

“Oh,” Lydia said, pulling the plate an inch closer to her and trying to hide the blush that crept up her neck and ears and face. “Well, go on then.” She brushed him away and started to sip out of her straw loudly again.

Unaware of how exactly to proceed, but sensing Scott now standing up and himself near the end of the booth, he slid to the end of the seat, almost toppling to the floor if his best friend hadn’t caught him and dragged him to the men’s room, locking the door behind them.

…

 

Scott’s expression did not change. Not when Stiles looked at him, not when he looked away, not when he tried to look away in a different direction and found himself face to face with his best friend’s expression in the mirror and jumped slightly away.

“I’m waiting,” Scott said dangerously.

“W-waiting?” Stiles squeaked. “What-what could you possibly be—”

“Stiles!” Scott said, exasperated. “If you can’t see it—”

“I know, I know, okay, I see it!”

Stiles started to pace.

“When did it start?” Scott demanded.

Stiles stopped and looked at him. “You make it sound like an addiction.”

Scott said nothing.

“Is it so strange that Lydia might actually want to spend time with me when we’re not in the middle of a life-or-death crisis?” Stiles tried to come across bitter, but his voice wavered, because he knew that wasn’t the issue. He sighed and proceeded to tell his best friend about the talk he’d had with Lydia when she had been acting a different kind of weird. He told him how that talk had felt like such a breakthrough and he was sure things were okay again.

“Kira thought you guys were dating,” Scott confided.

Stiles’ eyes widened. “W-what?”

Scott laughed and nodded. “That’s what I said. Because,” Scott continued when Stiles all but scoffed at the insinuation, “that would be something pretty life changing. You wouldn’t dare keep that from your best friend.” He leveled him with a look that all but dared him to run off. “Or _would_ you?”

“ _Scott_ ,” he deadpanned, to which his friend started to grin.

“You have to talk to her again,” Scott said, heading for the door.

Stiles sighed. “I was so enjoying her sticking to me like glue.”

“Maybe she’ll stick to you like tape instead.”

Stiles stopped and looked at him, confused.

“Tape comes off easier,” Scott explained. “And if you lick it, worst case scenario is tasting something nasty, not calling the poison center.”

Stiles mock-laughed. “That’s funny.”

Scott grinned, unlocked the bathroom door and walked out, coming face to face with Lydia not more than a foot away from them.

“What took you so long?” she asked, eyes wide and demanding and anything but innocent.

“I-”

“Uh-”

“I finished my fries,” she said, since none of them were giving a proper answer. She focused her attention on Stiles. “We can go now.”

“Right.” Stiles looked over at Scott, shared a meaningful look and then watched him slip out the door. Lydia looked impatient when he turned back to her. “I will just…I’ll pay for the food and then we can go.”

She took a step back, let him fish out his wallet and then waited by the door for him to join her.

…

 

“Lydia, you _really_ don’t have to do this,” Kira insisted for the third time since they’d arrived at the high end shopping boutique. “I can’t afford any of these things and there’s no way I can let you actually buy me one. I’d never be able to pay you back.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, snatched away the three dresses in Kira’s arms and shoved four more outfits into the now empty space.

“Try those on, dear. I think they’re more your style.”

“But—”

“ _Go_.”

With a sigh, Kira held tight to all the new clothes and trudged back into the dressing room.

“How does it look?” Lydia asked a few minutes later. She heard the audible sigh and stood to her feet. “That bad, huh?” She whipped the door open, nearly banging Kira’s head in the process.

“Lydia!” Kira jumped away, effectively plastering herself against the dressing room wall.

Lydia didn’t respond. She focused instead on the outfit and how it looked on Kira.

“It’s not bad,” she finally told her, meeting her eyes. “You could use some accessories for sure, but I really don’t think it’s as awful as you’re making it out to be.”

“I don’t really do—”

“Of course you do. Don’t you remember those earrings that—”

Lydia stopped talking. Her face paled. She gripped the bar with hangers hanging off it for stability.

“Lydia, are you alright?” Kira’s eyes widened, concerned and a little panicked. “Lydia?” she asked again when the redhead didn’t so much as budge.

Finally her eyes refocused and some of the color returned to her face.

“I…I’m fine. Just…try on those other tops and skirts.”

“Ly—”

“For me. _Please_?”

The bare hint of something real surfaced in Lydia’s eyes. It was enough to get Kira to agree.

Lydia left the room and sank into the plush couch just in the corner of the dressing room hallway. Mirrors reflected her image on three sides but she wasn’t looking at any of them. All she could think about was the cold sweat dripping on her neck, the knot in her stomach and the gag reflex ready to strike in her throat.

It had all been going so well. Not so much at first she knew, because Stiles knew her and he’d broken through that first façade. To be fair, she thought that was the end of it there too. But when he so readily accepted every invitation she offered him, when he had no problem leaving her side or complying with any demands she made and when nothing to him appeared to be off, even though she knew her sense of reality was sinking away from the present, that’s when she decided round two of living in a dream world was safely accessible.

Her decision was not straightforward initially. At first she had told herself that spending with Stiles was a way to reassure her he wasn’t going anywhere. He was healthy and happy and _fine_. And he wanted to spend time with her. She knew he never particularly _didn’t_ want to spend time with her, but he was usually with Scott so much, and _she_ usually wasn’t going out of her way to spend time with _him_.

Of course that was back when she had a best friend. And a boyfriend. And life was _normal_ , or as normal as it could get in Beacon Hills with all the supernatural beings running around and causing havoc.

It was clear to her now though that she had reverted. Again. She was acting the way old superficial Lydia would have. Pretending not to be smart. Pretending not to be clingy; though right now she was so much worse than she’d ever been with Jackson, or Aiden for that matter. She hadn’t even been particularly clingy with either of them. Her appeal to them was that she was hot and _not_ clingy.

This was bad. This was so so bad. The fact that she hadn’t realized it, that she had just started to believe the way she was acting was normal. That…

Well, she wouldn’t have even realized it if what had happened with Kira now hadn’t just happened. She should be thanking the girl, really. Without her this mental, emotional, physical breakthrough wouldn’t have even happened, or at least not for awhile.

Because Kira didn’t have a memory that involved Lydia and admiring accessories. Outside of the war that had killed people and possessed Stiles, Kira and Lydia didn’t have all that many memories together period.

The earrings Lydia had been recalling belonged to Allison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't recall if Kira wears a lot of jewelry/accessories or not, but from what I can remember, her attire is a lot more simple. Allison might not have worn much either (or maybe she did! haha I honestly can't remember), but the specific earrings Lydia was thinking of belonged to Allison. That was the trigger.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the long wait! I just update things as they're reviewed & w/ multiple fics going I just add the next update to the end of whatever list I have so far. It's a long one. Hopefully I can get through the next bunch sooner for the few of you that are reading this. :)


	7. All About Allison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap was written for the first day in WIP week on tumblr (theme: Oldest WIP). Not a clue when I'll update again, but here you go! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> *Many thanks to my awesome beta, sendtherain, for looking this over.

A quick peck on the cheek had been all it took to make Stiles completely forget about Scott’s repeated instructions to talk to her about what was going on with her. He’d talked her out of her denial once, but she’d clearly slipped back into it. Maybe she’d had a back-up denial plan. _Did those exist?_ A denial in case someone forced her out of the first denial she thought she’d settled so nicely into.

Regardless, the feel of her lips pressed to his skin, even in a completely platonic gesture, accompanied with her hand wrapped around his wrist as she leaned across the console to reach him, successfully distracted Stiles long enough that he didn’t realize he’d been trying to talk to her about something serious.

“You should probably sleep at home tonight,” she’d said cheerfully, just before those oh-so-sweet ruby lips met his pale cheek.

The tone of her voice should’ve set him off, but alarm bells became a distant noise that were easy to ignore whenever she touched him.

“Are you sure?” he heard himself asking after she pulled away. Scott’s bewildered face staring straight at him multiple times that evening was also a distant memory.

Lydia smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand.

“Positive.”

He knew he should probably search that smile, that look in her eyes, that light touch, for some hidden meaning. But he found himself just following the nonverbal order to leave her car instead.

He waved to her when he got to his front door, and she drove away. He went inside, talked briefly with his dad who seemed to know more than he let on, and went upstairs to his bedroom.

He thought about what Scott said and how he looked, how Lydia talked and acted, how he’d been blind to so much because he was just thrilled to be near her all the time.

Then he remembered how Allison’s delayed funeral was just a few short days away.

**Did you talk to her?**

A text message from Scott. He didn’t answer it. His best friend wouldn’t like the answer.

**Talk to her tomorrow.**

A second text message.

**BEFORE the party.**

That one came so soon after that Stiles could have sworn they were sent simultaneously.

He scrambled around the bedside table for his phone, nearly losing it when it went flying – cord and all – n his plight, but he caught it miraculously. As he fell to the floor.

He groaned, rubbing the shoulder that had broken his fall, but texted back anyway.

**GOODNIGHT, SCOTT.**

He climbed back in bed, shut off the light, and hoped tomorrow’s task would be ten times easier than it promised to be.

…

 

The next day flew by in a whirlwind.

Lydia summoned Stiles to help her set up for her party at six a.m. that morning. She’d been disappointed that he wasn’t as peppy as she appeared to be, and him pointing out the time didn’t seem to faze her.

The house was decorated by noon, at which point Lydia grabbed some snacks and they just hung out for a while. Stiles indulged her, as he always did, and didn’t bring up the one topic he knew he needed to, that Scott had impressed on him the importance of via text all throughout the day and he’d continuously ignored.

Food set up came later, and Stiles proved helpful with that too. Up until he dropped two glasses of crystal. Which, normally, would’ve sent Lydia into a flying rage. But she forgave him immediately, disappearing only for a minute when she accidentally cut herself in the process of picking up the broken pieces with him and had to go into the bathroom to wash and bandage up the wound.

She was gone too long, Stiles thought. He needed to bring up her behavior recently, how in denial she seemed and how strangely she’d been acting.

But on her return, she recalled her birthday the previous year and how he’d shown up with a massive present that he couldn’t fit through the door.

That had him laughing and smiling fondly at her, and he forgot to confront her again.

When Scott showed up at the party, he knew without even asking that Stiles hadn’t gone through with it. He was all glares as he interrogated his best friend, until finally Stiles felt harassed enough to just go ahead and do it.

And he tried to be soft about it, gentle. He asked her if she was okay, pointed out she was acting a little weird, but excuse after excuse came spilling out of her lips, each of them as legitimate as the rest – _I’m just tired, I’m busy, it’s been a long day_ , etc. etc.

He didn’t bring up Aidan, because truthfully, he wasn’t sure how close to home that hit. There was no point bringing up his own near death, because that had more or less been resolved the first time she’d started acting off.

And then it dawned on him so clearly and so suddenly, he wondered why he didn’t think of it sooner. He berated himself inwardly for just assuming it was all about him.

And so, to prevent her from brushing aside any further questioning or accusations, he gave one suggestion.

“Don’t you think you should maybe talk to someone about how you’re feeling?” he’d asked, exasperated but trying to hold it together.

“Why?” she’d responded on a strained giggle, and he lost it.

In a fit of frustrated desperation, his voice increased in volume, his hands flailed about, and he informed her loudly and clearly of the most heartbreaking truth that was turning her to stone on the inside.

Lydia’s bewildered, horrified, enraged and wide-eyed response to his announcement was almost enough to make him forget the fact that every eye in the party was directed at them. Every guest held their breaths, not daring to move. There wasn’t even a reaction from the peanut gallery. Because Stiles hadn’t hurled an insult at the beauty queen – he would never. He hadn’t stumbled all over himself asking her out in some sort of grand gesture – he wasn’t courageous enough for that yet.

But he had said the one thing that was so blatantly obvious and Lydia had strived to put out of her mind since the day that it happened.

“Your best friend is _dead_!”

He regretted the words the moment they slipped past his lips, but there was no taking them back, especially not with the whole school staring at them.

He took a step toward her, but she recoiled, taking two steps back.

Unfortunately, those two steps were enough to send her crashing into the pool, tray of champagne in one hand and higher than high heels on her feet.

Gasps and laughter did follow that interaction, but no one immediately went to her aid when she surfaced shortly after, pushing her soaking strawberry blonde locks to the side of her face as she did. By the time Stiles recovered from the unexpected turn of events and started towards her, she held up her hand and shot daggers at him with her eyes.

“Stiles, _don’t_ ,” she warned, and he didn’t.

Not quite so targeted as his best friend, Scott went to her and helped her the rest of the way out of the pool. Reluctantly, she let him.

“You’re guilty by association, McCall,” she informed him.

He nodded and avoided Stiles’ look of betrayal. “I know.”

In that moment, he knew he should’ve told her that confronting her had been his idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to. She needed to calm down. Finding out the origin of the accusation, whether it had been delivered as he’d intended or not, would only enrage her further.

“And not just with that one,” she said, refusing to say Stiles’ name out loud against so soon.

Scott stopped walking when they were a safe distance away from the pool and the chatter of party guests and music had resumed. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you…”

“You didn’t save her,” she said numbly, sending shock waves through him, developing a cold sweat all over his skin.

He didn’t stop her when she untangled herself from him. He let her go and finally let his gaze travel back to Stiles, who now looked as broken as she did.

The two boys watched Lydia retreat to her room, then walked into the living room together.

After a few long minutes of dwelling on the situation and feeling more exhausted than ever, Stiles looked over at his best friend.

“We should probably—”

“Not yet, Stiles.” He paused. “She needs time.”

Reluctantly, Stiles sank back into his chair, tapping his finger in a rhythmic pattern along the plush arm of it.

“What did she say to you?” he asked finally, softly, unsure if he should be doing it.

The endless silence was deafening.

“She blamed me for Allison’s death.”

Stiles’ face paled. “Oh, Scott.” He sat up and leaned towards his friend. “Scott, you know you did everything you could. You know—”

“I know.” Scott’s eyes blazed and then he forced himself to relax. “She’s just lashing out.”

Stiles sank back into this chair.

“You’re both grieving Allison,” he said. Scott looked up at him. “I mean, I am too. Everyone is. But…Scott, she was the love of your life and Lydia’s best friend.” He paused and pursed his lips. “Maybe… Maybe _you_ should be the one to tell her what to do.”

“I don’t think _anyone_ should be telling her—”

“Suggest then,” he corrected himself. “Maybe your mom? Maybe the two of you could…?” A thought occurred to him, and his eyes widened. “Have you… Have you _talked_ to anyone about Allison, Scott?”

Scott shook his head a little, avoiding the worried gaze Stiles impressed upon him.

“I cried with my mom a little,” he admitted. “But I never talked about it. Allison and I broke up… I was started something with Kira, she was with Isaac, but…”

“You never stopped loving her,” Stiles finished, his heart suddenly aching for his best friend.

Scott shook his head.

“I haven’t seen her dad since it happened. Isaac has basically disappeared off the face of the earth. He wasn’t in any of our last classes this week. And Kira…” He sighed and pressed two fingers to his forehead. “We were starting something, Stiles.” He looked up at him with tears in his eyes. “And it was going to be great. But now…all I can think about is how on Allison’s dying breath she told me she still loved me, and I was too consumed with grief knowing that she was really going to die…that I didn’t say it back. And now…I never can again.”

Stiles got up from his chair, came and sat beside Scott and hugged him.

…

 

Some time later, Lydia heard a knock on her door. Curled up in the fetal position on her bed, exhausted from crying, the tears still damp on her cheeks, she barely found the strength to respond.

“Go away.”

“It’s Scott,” the person on the other side of the door said, which didn’t make her feel any more inclined to open it for him or give him the time of day. “Please,” he said. “Just two minutes and then I’ll leave.”

The first thing that popped into her head was to go over the door, give him the illusion that she was going to let him in because she knew he’d hear her footsteps approaching, and then lock the door and repeat her demand.

But then she remembered how she’d accused him of killing her best friend when he’d done everything he could to save her, and the stab of guilt – only recently familiar to her – made her concede to him.

She went to the door, opened it slowly, and looked at him.

In the darkness, she could only see the glow of yellow eyes, which once might have scared her, but now shook her to the core for another reason. There was so much loneliness and heartbreak in there.

So, she stepped back and let him inside.

When she’d shut the door and returned to him, his eyes receded into their normal coloring.

“I know you don’t want to see me, but I just—”

“It’s okay,” she assured him and returned to her perch on her bed. Then she patted the spot beside her and reluctantly he took the seat. She licked her lips and told herself to be brave. “I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. I know…”

“You need to talk to someone, Lydia.” She stiffened. “About Allison.”

“Scott—”

“So do I.”

She relaxed.

“You’re suggesting…?”

“We go to my mom. Together.”

“I don’t know…”

“I haven’t talked to anyone, Lydia. I don’t know how to move forward with Kira, with my life…and it’s eating me alive.”

She swallowed hard.

“I know you told Stiles you were okay, but you’re not. You told him it was just about losing him, but…I know if I lost him, my best friend…I wouldn’t be okay.”

She sighed shakily and closed her eyes, letting the words sink in.

Scott inhaled a deep breath and stood to his feet, heading for the door. She hadn’t responded and she probably wasn’t going to. Not tonight at any rate.

His hand on the doorknob, he turned back to her.

“You don’t have to go with me,” he said. To that she opened her eyes. “You can go alone, and it doesn’t have to be to my mom. But…she’s a good listener and she cares about all of us.”

The tiniest of smiles appeared on Lydia’s face, and she nodded subtly. Scott mirrored the action and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lydia fell back onto her bed and considered his offer.

It was asking a lot, to be vulnerable like that, and with someone she barely knew aside from her being Scott’s mom.

But if she cared about her…

_She’s a good listener and she cares about all of us._

Then maybe.

…

 

The following evening after being completely unresponsive to Scott or Stiles or anyone else for the entire day, Lydia approached the McCall household and rapped lightly on the door. It was nine o’clock, late enough for dinner to be over but hopefully early enough that it wouldn’t be considered rude to show up unannounced and want to talk.

“Lydia,” Mrs. McCall said, surprised when she opened the door to find the petite girl standing there.

“Hi, Mrs. McCall, I-I was just wondering if…”

Her gaze shifted to the figure that had popped up behind his mother. Scott’s eyes widened when he registered who she was and likely why she was there.

Lydia cleared her throat and guided her eyes back to Melissa.

“I was hoping we could talk.” She swallowed. “About Allison.”

Melissa’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly, stepping back to let her inside.

“Of course,” she said. “Come on in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is concerned, this is not turning into a Scott/Lydia fic w/ the scenes I wrote at the end. I just thought they could relate to each other w/ the loss of Allison, but this is still firmly a stydia fic. Scott coping w/ the loss of Allison is just a subplot. :P


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